[Sir Richard Straccan 02] - Pendragon Banner

by Sylvian Hamilton

  “Don’t drive me out,” he begged. As if I would, as if I could.’

  ‘”I’ll kill myself if anyone sees me,” he said, and he meant it. I didn’t want his blood on my hands.’

  ‘What difference would it make?’ Gamier asked. With so much on them already.’

  Lost in recollection Lord William didn’t hear. ‘I promised to find a safe place where no one would see him. Sulien had just come here — a godsend. I gave him the valley, gave him stone and wood to build his hospital. I sent everything he needed: food, wine, cloth, chattels. I had Arthur brought here.

  ‘Stop staring, damn you!’ Lord William turned away from those accusing black holes. ‘It’s what he wanted. He was grateful. Oh yes, I had his gratitude then, for all the good it was! When I told him about this place he vowed to pray for my soul every day that he lived, so long as no one ever found him.’

  ‘He kept his word,’ the leper-master said softly. ‘Every day he has prayed for your damnation; so he told me.’

  Lord William didn’t hear that either.

  ‘I told Sulien he was one of my household. He said, “What’s his name?” I nearly said “Arthur”, just stopped myself in time, said “Geoffrey”. It was his father’s name.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  On the Edge at night the anchorhold hung suspended between earth and heaven. So many the stars, so bright, so close, it seemed Osyth had only to reach up to touch them. Far below, soft lights shone in the squat dark cotts, and threads of bluish smoke, clearly seen in the moonlight, rose straight for a long way before vagrant air currents teased them apart.

  The anchoress had spread a wolf skin on the ground, and sat on it with her arms around her knees. She had asked for guidance and waited to receive it. Nearby a nightjar chirred, answered by another farther off and interrupted by the distant calls of owls.

  Osyth breathed evenly and thought of the task ahead. She must help Janiva fight the evil that was destroying everything and everyone dear to her before it succeeded in destroying the girl herself. Was Janiva the one whose coming she awaited, the one who would — in time, and not so long now — take her place? There was no doubt of her power; the glow of her spirit haloed her flesh and would shine clear and golden but for the shadow of ill that stained it.

  An urchin snuffled along the foot of the garth wall, and somewhere nearby its babies, hidden but anxious, whistled plaintively. The urchin paused to crunch a beede, then saw Osyth’s still shape and scampered away, showing surprisingly long legs as if it held up its skirts the better to run.

  Deep in meditation, Osyth felt her spirit withdraw gently from her flesh and rise to walk among the stars.

  The approach of the sun was lightening the eastern sky when, in the north-west, stars fell. The anchoress counted four, one after another, and presendy three more, and lasdy two. Nine, the sacred number. She got up stiffly. Each time she fared forth from her body it was harder to return and put on again the painful limitations of aching flesh and bones. But, as she hobbled to the house, she was satisfied. She had sat out for a sign. The Mother had given her one.

  ‘What do you see?’

  Janiva jumped guiltily. She’d been staring into the rock pool beside the narrow waterfall and the noise of the falling water had covered Osyth’s footsteps. For all her bulk the anchoress — a big woman, with bare earthy feet and hands stained with the juices of herbs and berries — moved quietly.

  ‘Be easy, lass. There’s naught to fear.’ Osyth knelt, grunting as arthritic knees took her weight. She peered into the pool, then stirred it with her finger. ‘Don’t believe all it shows you,’ she said. Water can only show what may be, and that ain’t always what will be.’

  From her belt pouch she took a piece of green stone, a rough half sphere; the curved surface knobby, puckered, the flat side smooth as glass.

  ‘This’ll serve you better’n water,’ she said, putting it in Janiva’s hand.

  Janiva held it to the sun, which struck points of green from its depths. ‘What is it?’

  ‘There’s a place where these things litter the ground. Folk say they’re bits of a star that fell to earth.’

  ‘Oh,’ Janiva exclaimed, delighted. ‘A shooting star!’

  ‘That’s what they say. Now, tell me what you saw in the water.’

  Janiva clenched her hand around the stone. ‘Flames,’ she said reluctantly. ‘Myself, standing in fire, my hair and my hands burning.’

  The anchoress nodded. ‘Don’t fear it. It ain’t what it seems. Help me up.’ She struggled to her feet with difficulty and turned towards the house. ‘I must see to the fire. Come.’

  Janiva followed her inside. ‘You aren’t what you seem either,’ she said, watching as Osyth made up the fire. ‘Why did Tostig bring me here?’

  Bent over the fire Osyth glanced sideways at her. ‘Pouncey folk’re good Christians,’ she said. ‘They go to church an keep the feasts, but this is a place of the Mother first of all, and we are all her servants here.’

  She saw Janiva’s eyes widen with sudden comprehension. This was a shrine of the Mother Goddess, worshipped in this land before monks brought their Christ-teachings from over the sea. A few hundred years of compulsory Christianity had skimmed over many such small enclaves where the Old Faith remained, secret and strong.

  The anchoress stood up. ‘We listen for her voice and do her bidding. Tostig was born here, didn’t he tell you? The Mother bade him bring you, so we can break this curse that’s on you.’

  ‘Curse?’ But… That was it! Of course! Why hadn’t she recognised it? Grief upon grief, loss after loss, all that she had, all that she loved stripped from her. What else could it be? Understanding lanced through her, leaving her cold with shock. ‘I’ve been a fool! I should have known!’

  ‘Don’t blame yourself. That’s how it works: it blinds your sight. You’d ’ave seen it soon enough if it wasn’t yourself.’ The anchoress sat down and leaned her elbows on the table. ‘Who did it?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  You must. Think! Who hates you?’

  Who hated her that much? Richildis? No. The girl was all jealousy and spite but there was no power in her. Benet Finacre, that pallid bundle of malice and ambition? No, not him. Who, then?

  Green glints, like glossy wet leaves, like broken glass. Green eyes…

  Eyes she had seen before but where? When? Green eyes that held her own, hard and malevolent, and a voice she heard inside her head, "All that you have, all that you love, all that you are you shall lose…”’

  She tried to grasp the memory but it slid away like water. She shut her eyes and struggled to pin it down. Osyth’s hands, cool and strong, closed over hers.

  Green eyes and the lour of foul magic… cruel laughter… a mind filled with malice…

  A woman’s mind, selfish, contemptuous, greedy and gloating. And she knew it, knew it by the taint she had met before. The woman who had bespelled Richard, sending the bane of an incubus to drive him to madness and destruction; who had kidnapped and abused his daughter and sought to murder her to buy greater power with her blood.

  Rainard de Soulis’ creature, Julitta de Beauris!

  Bright, hot, a core of anger began to glow within her. ‘I know her! What shall I do?’

  ‘Turn it back, a course.’

  Of course. Her mother had told her the same thing. There was only one way to be rid of a curse: turn it back upon the sender. And to do that she must fight her face to face.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  You’re lying, by God!’ Lord William had picked up a jug of ale, but at his squire’s words he slammed it down, smashing the jug. Ale ran over the table and dripped on the floor.

  Thibaut swallowed. ‘As God sees me, my lord, it’s truth! Sulien has it from the prior of Abergavenny; the messenger is still here, you can question him yourself. Lady Mahaut is captured, and William your son. They fled to Scotland but the Scottish king sent them back to King John, in chains.’

  There was a
n ugly sound: Lord William grinding his teeth. ‘What of Hugh de Lacy? She was in his care!’

  ‘He got away. No one knows where he is.’

  ‘The Devil snatch him up for a false traitor!’ Lord William chewed his lip until blood and foam speckled his chin, but even more shockingly, tears started from his eyes, running unheeded down his cheeks. His embarrassed squire didn’t know where to look.

  ‘Sir,’ he began, then yipped in pain as his lord clutched his sore arm in a bruising grip.

  ‘My wife, my lady,’ Breos groaned, ‘in chains! Lord God, she has honoured You all her life! How could You let this happen?’ His voice rose hysterically. ‘John’s prisoner! He’ll kill her, he hates her; you know what she said of him, that he slew his nephew. He’ll never forgive that, never…’ He let go of Thibaut, who staggered and nearly fell. ‘God in heaven! In chains!’

  He couldn’t bear it. His wife, his Moll, so proud, in chains! The little room was closing in, the walls crushing him. He must get outside in the open air or suffocate! Thrusting Thibaut roughly aside Lord William lurched out of the chamber like a drunkard, through the main room where his knights, at their supper, sat transfixed, and out under the sky, where he clenched his fists, threw back his head and screamed, a shocking noise that went on and on until his voice cracked and broke on it. Spittle ran down his chin and dripped onto his shirt, the cords of his neck stood out like drawn ropes and his face darkened to the colour of sloes.

  It’s an apoplexy, Thibaut thought, panicky and shaky from the poison circulating in his bloodstream. His lord would fall like a cut oak any moment now.

  But he didn’t. Breos staggered, then steadied; slowly his dark empurpled colour paled to a death-like grey, except for the inflamed slash down his cheek where that murderous little scribbler had gone for his eye. At his howl, just as Thibaut had feared, folk came running to see what was going on: Breos’s own men, hospital attendants, pilgrims and even a couple of lepers. They watched, anxious to miss nothing. Lord William took no notice of them. Through clenched teeth he mumbled something indistinct.

  Thibaut shivered. ‘My lord?’

  ‘God,’ whispered Lord William. ‘God has broken faith with me. I will be His man no more!’ He tore off his necklace of relics and holy medals and threw it down. ‘That for God,’ he snarled, and spat on it. ‘And for the saints, the useless bastards!’ He trod on the bright tangle at his feet and ground it into the earth. ‘How could they? After all I’ve done for them!’

  The onlookers murmured, edging back a bit, still able to see and hear but out of harm’s way if God’s thunderbolt should strike the blasphemer.

  ‘All my life I’ve honoured the Lord God and His Son! I’ve poured out gold to glorify them. When did I ever stint? I’ve built churches, convents; I gave one of my sons to the Church; I fought for God in the Holy Land… For what? For this? Is this my reward? I’d’ve done better to serve the Devil! Satan,’ he howled, tilting his face skywards as if addressing God, then remembering that the Devil dwelt otherwhere and stamping furiously on the ground instead to get the Lord of Hell’s attention.

  ‘Satan, hear me! Save my lady and I vow, I swear before God, I’ll be your man!’

  The crowd and Thibaut gasped as one. The squire looked at their avid faces and wondered how in God’s name he could shut his lord up.

  ‘The king is always short of money,’ he offered hesitantly. ‘He will surely accept ransom for Lady Mahaut. You’ve taken much treasure these past weeks—’

  Lord William uttered a mirthless bark. He looked dreadful; new lines chiselled his face and the grey flesh cleaved to the bone of his skull like a dead man’s.

  ‘Don’t be a damned fool. Do you think there’s treasure enough in the world to buy off John’s vengeance on my lady? Shut your damned mouth if you’ve nothing worth saying. Get me wine, damn your eyes! And bring the lady Julitta to me.’

  Escorting Julitta, close enough to be aware of her scent and the warmth of her body, Thibaut closed his good hand over the holy relic in the pommel of his dagger and bit his tongue to still the unwelcome twinge of desire her presence always roused. Despite her beauty she made him uneasy, and he knew he wasn’t the only one. Bevis de Rennes, the most senior of Lord William’s knights, swore she sent evil dreams to torment him, and Thibaut, who’d had a few disturbing dreams himself but kept quiet about them, believed it.

  At the door a woman was waiting with a baby in her arms. At their approach she held out her hand for alms with the whine of a professional beggar.

  ‘Penny, me lord, me lady? Ha’penny? I’ve no milk for the little un. Just born yestiddy, e was. A fourthing, me beautiful lady—’

  ‘Go to the hostel kitchen,’ Thibaut said. ‘No one starves here. They will feed you and give you milk for the child.’

  But with an angelic smile Julitta dropped a coin in the outstretched palm and the woman mouthed her thanks, flashing Thibaut a ‘So there!’ smirk as she scuttled off.

  He didn’t look at Julitta, but as he held the door of Lord William’s small side-chamber open for her to pass in he felt the mocking gaze of her green eyes, palpable as a kiss.

  In the main room of the storehouse they’d taken over as their quarters, helping themselves to the bales and barrels, Lord William’s knights paused in their talk and tasks to cross themselves and make the forked sign against the Evil Eye as the door closed behind her.

  ‘Have you heard? John has them, my wife and son!’ Before Julitta could answer Lord William seized her by the arm and dragged her to the table, pushing her into his own chair. ‘What shall I do? What can I do? He’ll kill her! You know he will; you know his vengeance!’ She knew it, none better, whose husband had been put to death on John’s orders, the gold he’d taken to betray his king melted and poured down his throat.

  ‘What do you want of me, my lord?’ She got up from the chair and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. ‘Sit down, you are shaking; you were let blood, and then this shock—’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ he muttered, sinking into the chair. ‘I was bled… That fool of a medicus.’ He glowered; the man had run off before he could be flogged. Nor was he the only one; four of his knights had deserted too. Only Bevis de Rennes and Ralph de Morwenni were still with him, and Thibaut, of course.

  ‘Let me pour you wine, my lord. Mayhap there is something we can do.’

  She picked up his cup — it was dented, he must have been too upset to notice — and went over to the aumbrey for wine. Keeping her back to him she slid a small bottle from her sleeve, cracked the wax seal with her nail and let three drops fall into the cup.

  ‘There, my lord. Drink, it will ease your mind, and we will see what may be done.’

  He looked up eagerly. ‘There is something, then? Something you can do?’ His hands shook as he took the cup and it rattled against his teeth. He held it out for more. She smiled, turning away to refill it. When he had drained that she looked sharply at his eyes, and judged him ready.

  ‘There may be a way to set your lady free,’ she said, but hesitantiy. ‘It is not easy.’

  ‘Anything,’ he said eagerly. ‘Whatever you need, whatever you want

  ‘I want nothing from you, Lord William. Duchess Alix will reward us both when we put the Banner in her hands.’

  ‘I haven’t got the bloody thing,’ he cried in despair. And Alix of Brittany can’t give me back my wife!’

  You will have it, my lord. I promise you, you will.’

  ‘Is that what the stars tell you?’ he asked thickly, wishing to believe.

  ‘The stars, of course.’ Agarel had told her but no matter how much she hurt the demon he could not — or would not — say how this was to come about. However, as her captive he could not lie to her. Lord William would find the Banner and when he did Julitta meant to have it, not for Brittany, but for herself.

  Breos stared at her, his pupils mere dots, his mouth slack, looking twenty years older than he had this morning. ‘You’re a w-witch,’ he said, stuttering
on the word. ‘That’s why they sent you to me, isn’t it?’ Forgetting his new allegiance he crossed himself.

  ‘So they say,’ Julitta murmured. ‘Listen, my lord. There is a spell… But no, no, what am I saying? You are a God-fearing man; you cannot put your hand to sorcery, not even to set your wife free.’

  ‘God has not used me well,’ Lord William said sullenly. ‘How do I know the one you serve will keep faith with me?’

  ‘He is the lord of this world and knows how to reward a good servant. He doesn’t want your silver, you don’t have to build cathedrals to his glory, nor does he hand out penance and punishment, only the Church does that. But consider well, my lord: if you set your feet on his path you must follow it to the end.’

  As for that—’ he began, then stopped abruptly, the words ‘It’s never too late to buy absolution’ left unsaid on the tip of his tongue. He got up and paced the small room, pondering what she had said and finding it good. But he had already offered his allegiance to Julitta’s lord, and that—had. cost him four good men.

  ‘I must have a token of his good faith.’ An odd thing to ask of the Devil, but those were his terms.

  ‘It is not too late to draw back,’ she said with a shrug. ‘You have done much for your God. Perhaps he will move the king to mercy.’ She sat down and took an apple and began to peel it, as if she had lost interest in the matter. He became agitated then and sought to persuade her, shouting and sobbing by turns. Soothingly she spoke, seeming all the while to dissuade him, until he was on fire to do that which she counselled against. And all the while she watched him, noting the fine tremor of his hands and smelling his sweat.

  There was a sheathed sword lying on the table. Her glance had passed over it at first, but now it came back and fixed on the weapon.

  ‘Where did you get this?’